Nathan Zachary and the Panicky PencilNeck
by Nathaniel Keys
Summary: Final Chapter is up! In search of a good story for his publisher, Phredrick Shnook sets out to the most notorious air pirate haven in North America. Will this pencilneck get snapped in two? Not if the Fortune Hunters have anything to say about it.
1. Chapter 1: The Laughing Editor

I don't own Crimson Skies. Those rights belong to Microsoft.

If you don't know the jargon or the terms in this story please go to the weblink to on my profile.

So now please enjoy:

_**Nathan Zachary and the Panicky Pencil-Neck**_

Phredrik Shnook staired blankly at his editor, Mr, George Van Buren. Phred was in a state of shock. His mind raced to try and comprehend what the chubby man had just said.

Phred shook his head to try and clear it.

"Uh, I'm sorry Mr. Van Buren, I'm not sure if I heard you right."

The chubby editor raised a playful bushy eybrow.

"What did you think I said?"

"I…uh…I thought you said that you wanted me to fly to Free Colorado, more specifically Sky Haven, to find Nathan Zachary."

"Was that all Mr. Shnook?"

Phred got very quiet. "N-no sir. You wanted me to find Mr. Zachary and…follow him around…and write a story about the Fortune Hunters."

A smile pushed through the rolls on Van Buren's face. "That," chuckled the editor, "sounds about right."

Phred's voice went up about eight octives. "Sk-sky Haven Mr. Van Buren?" squeaked Phred, "B-but Sky Haven's crawling with air pirates!"

George Van Buren became serious for a moment. Without raising his voice the editor replied, "and Nathan Zachary is an air pirate. So all the more reason to search a pirate enclave." Van Buren smiled, "You wouldn't look for a whore among nuns would you?" Van Buren broke into a fit of uproarious laughter. His whole body jiggled as he heartily guffawed.

Phred looked down on the floor trying not to show his fear.

"Oh come on Phred," laughed George, "don't be such wet blanket. Nathan Zachary is one of the most reasonable pirates around. It's not like I'm asking you to talk to "Marshal" Bill Redman, or Johnathan "Gengis" Kahn, who is actually a bit more civil since his trip to Manchuria." Van Buren laughed again, "I figure you have a ninety percent chance of survival."

"NINETY PERCENT!" Phred squealed, "What about the other ten?"

"Come now Phredy boy, you know what they say, 'Nothings certain but death, taxes, and something going wrong." The editor's laugh bellowed through out the office. Outside the door, Van Buren's secretary got startled by the laugh and dropped her newly filed papers all over the floor.

George was so thrilled by his own sense of humor, so over taken by his own joke, he slapped his hand on his desk to prevent his heavy frame from falling out of his chair. He was just about to tear up when a distressed Phred asked, "So how am I supposed to get to Colorado? Are you going to lend me a plane?"

Van Buren cocked his head at Phred in questioning, and then broke out into another fit of laughter.

"Oh-ho-ho…no way. Not for a new writer. Too much of a risk, you see," he chuckled, "but that was a good one."

"So how do I get from Manhattan to Sky Haven?"

"Didn't your dad leave you his crop duster in his will?"

Phred's voice got so high dogs barked in New Jersey. "You want me to fly to the biggest pirate nest on the North American continent in an outdated, unarmed, cloth skinned, crop duster?" In his mind, Phred saw images of his plane being shot at. He could hear the bullets rip through his tail rudder. He saw his father's crop duster sprout smoke and flames as it spiraled into the canyon walls of the Rockies.

"Phred, didn't your mother ever tell you that you shouldn't play with helium like that. It can ruin your voice," more laughter from the editor, not as richter evoking as the last, but hearty all the same.

"Listen I'll pay to streamline and armor plate your bird, OK? I'll even throw in a belt fed, water-cooled, twenty cal for each wing with a couple of belts of explosive rounds."

George Van Buren smiled. It was a smile that made Phred think, in the back of his mind, how well his foot would fit there. It made Phred think how good it would be to put it there.

"Don't be so glum Phred. You'll be back before you know it. And just think of the adventures you're going to have! You're going to love it!"


	2. Chapter 2: Dead End in Sky Haven?

Phred looked back on his conversation with his editor. As he studied the 45.cal revolver aimed at his head. Phred thought about the odds and all the possibilities of survival. I didn't look good. He was about to die. For some people they reflect on their loved ones, or what they will miss when they are gone. For Phred only one phrase was repeated over and over again. It was the voice of a chubby editor. "You'll be back before you know it. And just think of the ADVENTURES you'll have. You're going to love it!"

Phred decided that if he did die, and Phred was pretty much sure that he was going to buy it, he would return to New York City as a ghost and haunt his editor to the end of his days.

The man with the pistol smiled and clicked back the hammer with his thumb.

"Arge!" Came a shout from behind Phred, "Arge what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I was about to blow this lousy pencil-neck away," Arge stated matter of factly.

The voice from behind was took on an intrigued tone, "A journalist, huh? From where?

"He says he's from some magazine. Amazing Aero Adventures or somthin' like that," Arge gritted his teeth, "But I know this lying scumbag is one of them slandering Mclane bastards." He grabbed Phred by the collar pulling him closer to the muzzle.

"Well Arge," replied the voice from behind, "perhaps you should let someone with more than half a brain do the talking."

"Aww boss, that wasn't nice at all," grumbled a dejected and insulted Arge, "I never get to have any fun." Arge's tough face melted into a childlike pout as he lowered his gun. What little comfort Phred received as the gun fell from view vanished as he felt a hand on his shoulder. As he turned around his eyes appraised a thin man about the same height as Phred with a body that was almost sickly. His face was just attractive enough to be unattractive. His eyes were blue but just barely, they were closer to gray, like steel. His hair was blonde but just shades away from white. There was nothing particularly scary about this man, merely an odd awkwardness in his appearance. In different circumstances Phred would have raised an eyebrow at the sight of the odd man. However, with a crowd of very unfriendly looking pirates surrounding him, with Arge as one of the most unfriendly looking of all the mob in the background Phred didn't move a muscle.

The odd man looked Phred up and down. "So sorry about the welcome," Smirked the man, "but our friend Arge here doesn't take kindly to being insulted in print. A recent publication by Air Action Weekly, Nero McLeon's Magazine, called members of our gang some rather...unkind things. Are dear sweet Arge here doesn't care to be called 'Lage Arge the Garbage Barge'…"

"Damn right!" Shouted Arge.

"And I have to say that I don't like being called 'Devro the Dunce' either," said the strange looking man, " But hey if you're not with Air Action Weekly then you shouldn't have _too_ much to fear." He laughed, encouraging his gang to laugh with him. Phred wouldn't have said anything if he wasn't surrounded by blood thirsty pirates in the middle of Sky Haven, but Phred couldn't help but notice that the leader of the gang laughed like a little girl. It almost seemed to Phred that his gang was laughing along to try and cover his ridiculous laugh. That or they were seizing a rare opportunity to secretly laugh at him. Before Phred could draw any conclusions, the laughter silenced at a wave of the odd man's hand.

"These jolly fellows you see around you are the Top Hats. I am Devro Cooper, their leader. However Devro the Devil is also accepted and appreciated."

Except no one would call him that. The Top Hat's were mostly a bunch of chute-riding rookies, know more for their almost comical defeats than for their combat kills. They were a spin off from the recently defeated Black Hats, using the former gang'stop hat wearing skull as their symbol, attempting to draw from the fear that the Black Hats used to evoke…with no success.

Phred knew they were clowns, however clowns ridiculed at in print, laughed at in the comfort of one's living room are much different, than say, when they are behind you with a loaded gun.

"D-D-Devro C-Cooper?" Phred stuttered. He couldn't believe his bad luck. The face of a smiling editor came to mind.

"Close but with two less duhs and one less kuh," Said Devro with a smile like a train wreck. A small chuckle resonated through the gang. Again Phred wasn't sure they were laughing with him.

"So you're a reporter huh? What do you report?" Devro began to pace.

"W-Well it's not so much reporting like for a p-paper…"

"So what _do_ you do then?"

Phred's response came out like an avalanche. "I research air pirates and air security organizations and write a story based on what I've found…and then my publishers give it to a group of artists who draw the pictures."

"What?" Devro's expression flashed from a smug smirk into a look of anger.

"I-It's like a comic book."

Gasps from the gang gave Phred the impression that he had said something unspeakable.

Devro shot daggers from his eyes. "_Comic books?_" he spat, "_Comic books!_"

Arge elbowed Phred and smiled, "Now you've done it."

Devro got up close to Phred, almost nose to nose. "Do you mean to tell me that you have a hand in making that moronic trash?"

With fear clogging his brain Phred said the only thing that came through the smog.

"Y-yes."

Phred heard a click of a hammer behind him.

"Do you want me to snuff him?" asked a hopeful Arge from behind Phred.

Devro straightened himself, and looked at Phred with disgust. "Put the gun away Arge. We are not a gang of mindless thugs. We are the greatest pirate gang in all of the twenty-two American Nations. So let's deal with him like a _pirate_ gang would."

Shouts of agreement came from all around and Phred cursed the day that he had met George Van Buren.

"Well then _pencil-neck_, here's the deal. You're going to get in your plane and fly away, and if you live we won't bother you again…so long as you never show your face again in Sky Haven."

"I-If I-I make it out alive?"

"Well that's the where the fun comes in," laughed Devro. "See, my men haven't had any recreation in a while, and you seem like a good sport."

More laughter came from Devro and the group.

"C-couldn't I j-just give you my plane…a-as payment and you could let me walk out of here?"

"Well Phredy boy," laughed Devro as he threw his arm around Phred like they were good chums, "The choice is: play with us or play with Arge."

Arge cracked his knuckles and Phred winced. Internally he had a conflict of interests. He had a desire to live, but he felt like he could just die.


	3. Chapter 3: The Game

Ch 3 

Phred pushed his plane's throttle as far forward as it could go. His old Curtis-Wright engine hummed as his plane reached 175 miles per hour. He glanced from his fuel gauge to the oil gauge, engine temperature, to his altimeter. He sighed. Part of him thought that he might have had better chances with Arge. In the last ten minutes Phred had managed to put almost 30 miles between himself and Sky Haven. It wouldn't take long for the Top Hat's J-2 Furys to catch up with him, with their top speed of 250 mph. Phred pulled back on the stick trying to gain altitude. He reasoned that with the Fury's low stall speed would prevent them from climbing quickly to get Phred under their crosshairs. Phred was hoping that as he was heading toward the Republic of Texas Phred could drop to a lower altitude gaining enough speed to out run Devro and his gang...or at least put enough space between himself and the pirates to make them loose interest.

Phred looked back over his shoulder towards his tail. He surehoped they would lose interest. He turned back to his gauges, then to his watch. He had five of the fifteen minutes left that Devro had given him. As odd a time as it was, Phred allowed a relieved grin to form on his face. He might just make it. He might just get back to New York. He might just give George a piece his mind. He might just get fired, but he might just be OK with that.

Something snapped Phred out of his little dream. Something sounded wrong with his engine. It was humming oddly. Suddenly Phred understood. The strange sound was a propeller harmony and it was growing louder. Suddenly Phred understood. His plane wasn't alone anymore. They had found him.

"Those bastards," he thought, "I still have four minutes."

His anger quickly turned to puzzlement.

"How did they find me so fast?"

He looked over his shoulder past his tail to the cloudy overcast skies. He couldn't see anything, which really scared him as the other plane's or planes' humming grew louder. He couldn't tell how many there actually were. He squinted to pick out shapes of planes against the clouds, desperate to know how he would die. He stared at nothing for a second...and then he saw it. And then he wished he hadn't seen it. It was a zeppelin. Phred was being chased by a fully armed pirate zeppelin, probably containing several squadrons of very, very mean pirate pilots who would probably shoot Phred out of the sky like a decrepit turkey.

Why hadn't Phred taken that job writing manuals for kitchen appliances?

Breaking Phred out of his negative daydreams was the crackle of a voice on the radio.

"Oh Phred. How are you?" Devro's sincere voice was as transparent as the windscreen Phred had in front of him.

"D-Devro!" Squeaked Phred, "I-I thought you were going to give me fifteen minutes?"

"Well we figured fifteen minutes is a long time and we figured you might get lonely. So we came to keep you company."

In the background, over the radio, Phred heard laughter.

"Why are they always laughing?" thought Phred. Every time Phred heard laughterhe was reminded of how truly not funny the situation was.

Well Phred wasn't just going to wait to be shot up. He pushed forward on the stick into a sharp dive to gain speed.

"Awww, it looks like our friend wants to play tag. Let's be polite and humor him."

Phred looked over his shoulder at his six o' clock. He could see the zep opening her bomb bay doors along her underside. Instead of bombs planes begin to drop towards the earth.

The gray and tan Furies leveled out and aimed themselves at Phred.

"Ok you guys. Remember the rules," said Devro over the radio, " First to shoot him down gets a free liquor for a month. But if anyone uses their seventy cal. cannons they buy drinks for all of us for two months. The homing rocket unit stashed in his Plane has just about run out of juice now, so seeker rockets won't be of any use. Other than that, let the games begin."

"So that's how they found me," thought Phred, "They used a beeper unit!" The beeper-seeker rocket team had been around for a few years, using a rocket with a homing unit that sent out a radio signal and a rocket with a receiver unit, the seeker, would follow it and explode on target. The beeper rocket would stick against a plane and emit a signal that, for sixty seconds, would bring every seeker right on top of it. However Phred had never heard of a beeper unit that lasted longer that that. He figured that Devro had one of his goons attach it with an extra power source in a space inside Phred's plane. It made Phred think that Devro wasn't as dumb as everyone said. That was a scary thought.

Phred pushed his plane into a dive to gain speed. He decided he would dive into the mountains and use them to keep from getting killed. His "Suped-up" biplane didn't have the speed or the punch of the Furies behind him, but he was just as nimble and if he used the mountainous terrain his enemy would have more difficulty using rockets on his little hunk of junk.

Phred banked his plane between the mountains with the sound of thirty caliber machine guns opening up on his six. Phred's pursuer had been a little too enthusiastic and was off by a mile. Phred's heart was pounding and his mind was racing to stay ahead of the game. His little maneuver wouldn't last forever. The twists and turns he was doing were draining his excess speed. It was only a matter of time before Phred got lined up in their sights.

More gunshots. This time the guy had waited. There were punching sounds, like a pencil being pushed through paper, all along the right upper wing and more punching sounds as slugs went through the bottom right wing. Phred was loosing too much speed. Thankfully these thugs couldn't hit the broad side of a barn if they were standing next to it with a baseball bat. Phred's arm nudged his radio dial, and by accident he had switched to the frequency that the Gray Hats were using.

"Hey Twitch! Break off," said a feminine voice, "Let me get a shot at him."

"All right," Replied what Phred assumed to be Twitch, "I couldn't hit him anyway."

Phred looked to the rear. His chaser rolled to the left and the Fury behind him lined up for a shot. Phred banked his plane to the right and tried to shake her, but the female pilot stuck like glue. Gunshots sounded and Phred heard more punching as the slugs cut through the cloth skin of the real fuselage.

Van Buren, the editor hadn't sprung for armor over the whole plane just the engine, the nose, and the enclosed cockpit. Everything else was canvas. However that was a blessing in disguise. A cloth plane could maintain flight longer if damaged. Bullets usually punched right through to the other side without hurting much.

The crop duster was holding but who knew how long itwould hold? It was going to take a miracle for Phred to get out of this alive. Phred's luck had run out. On his six four Furies lined him up. Phred's adventure was over.


	4. Chapter 4: Enter Zachary, exit Phred?

Phred had his eyes on the death bearing planes behind him, waiting in a frozen shock for the sound of guns spitting fiery doom. The angry sounds of machine guns sounded…but it wasn't the Furies'. Tracer rounds slammed into the Furies from Phred's three o' clock. The Furies, taken by surprise, had little choice but to break off Phred's tail.

Phred found that the Top Hats were just as confused as he was.

"What the hell?" cried Twitch, "My starboard wing is all shot to…"  
"Shut up and keep flying Twitch!" Shouted the female pilot, "They're coming around for another pass!"

"We'd better pull of this guy's backside before ours gets shot to sh…"

"_What did I tell you about shuttin' up?_"

Three red and white planes charged towards the retreating Furies. Phred thought they bore an insignia of what looked like taro cards on their wings. As if to clear up any doubt as to their identity, a new voice came up on the radio. "Attention Top Hats, this is Nathan Zachary of the fortune hunters. Break off your attack on this civilian aircraft."

"Well, well, well," Replied Devro, "If it isn't Nathan Zachary, 'gentleman' air-pirate. How lucky we must be to entertain such noble company." There was laughter in the background. "Unfortunately Zachary, I can't seem to see how this is any of your damn business," Devro's voice dropped to a growl, "Go play hero somewhere else."

"I'm not going to tell you again Cooper. Break off now or you'll be plucking your pilots from the sides of the Rockies."

"I think you put that statement in reverse, Zachary." Growled Devro. "Ok boys, the Fortune Hunters want to play too. Decimate them, but leave Zachary for me."

Phred kept his plane heading away from the zep and checked his throttle. It was already at full. He prayed that the Devro would just forget him.

"Hey Boss, what about the runt?" asked Twitch

"We'll deal with him later after we clip these buzzards' wings."

Phred could hardly believe it. This was his chance. While the Top Hats were busy with the Fortune Hunters his little crop duster could be over the border into some other nation and home free. He'd be untraceable as the homing beeper unit would run out of power eventually. He breathed a sigh of relief as the zeppelin begin to get smaller in his rear windscreen. In a few minutes everything would be just a bad memory. The zep was just a silhouette now, just a dark patch against the clouds. Phred should have been feeling better but something wasn't right. Even ifhe made it out of this sorry situation to forget it, he wouldn't be able to even pretend to forget the fact that he had left three planes against the full force of the Top Hats. He would never know what would become of the guys that risked their necks for someone they didn't even know.

Phred sighed and pulled up on the stick. The altimeter's hand began to circle clockwise, ticking off altitude being slowly gained. Phred might not be and ace, but there was a darn good chance he could out think Cooper and his thugs…he hoped.


	5. Chapter 5: Fortune?

Nathan lined up a gray and brown Fury in his sights and pulled the trigger. Lightning colored tracer rounds streaked through the air. The Top Hat pilot tried to roll out from under the forty cal. venom spat from the wings of Nathan's Peacemaker. No good. By the time the Top Hat pilot broke away smoke poured out from his engine cowling. He bailed out as his plane spiraled into the ground.

"You really need to find a new line of work, pal," chuckled Nathan to his defeated foe, even though he knew the downed pilot couldn't hear him.

It was surprising how nimble the Peacemaker was compared to his Devastator,. He was using this plane, "_Razzle Dazzle_" until his beloved "_Gypsy Magic_" was given a checkup and some minor maintenance work. However, even as infatuated with his baby as he was, Nathan couldn't help noticing that "_Razzle Dazzle_" was quite the heartbreaker.

A deep bass voice came over the radio. "Boss this is Big John. It looks like that writer is skipping town on us. What's the plan?"

"Keep the Hats at bay until Tex and Betty get in position. We can find our friend the journalist later," said Zachary as he banked his plane right. "What's important now is to draw these fighters away from their zep."

"Gotcha boss," Repied Big John

"Come on Cap," said another voice, " Give them the signal and let's sink that zep."

"Patience Jack," Said Nathan, " If I did that our Balmorals would be sitting ducks for these Fury's."

It was no secret that the Bristol Aeroplane Company's Balmoral was one of the clunkyest machines in the skies. It was often compared to a barn with wings.However it's short comings were redeemed slightly buy the fact that it brandished two thirty caliber turrets an had a massive rocket payload. Tex and Betty's Balmorals were stocked with enough flack rockets to knock out all the engines on the Top Hat's zep, bringing it to a complete stop.

Nathan turned his plane so that the zeppelin was in his crosshairs. It's image was just a little smaller than his target ring. He turned his craft away from the zep. If he could just keep these Furies distracted for just a little longer…

"Boss, this is Tex," said a feminine voice with a Texan drawl, "Me and betty are in position."

Nathan decided it was as good as he was going to get. "Ok girls, knock out those engines!"

As if on cue, the sound of rockets exploding came from behind Nathan. He looked back at the zeppelin's and saw the engines bursting like popcorn as the Balmorals dived down on either side of the zep. The Top Hat Furies turned back to their pitiful gasbag to prevent the Balmorals from wiping it out completely…forgetting that Nathan and his men were right behind them. Nathan rolled his aircraft upside down and executed a perfect split S so that the Peacemaker ended up upright, ready to go.

"Ok boys, it's cleanup time," chuckled Nathan, " Big John cover Betty, Jack cover Tex. I'll take out any stragglers. Keep your eyes open and watch out for that zep's defending turrets!"

"Roger Cap," replied Jack

"You got it boss," said Big John

Nathan watched as the two aircraft peeled away toward the zeppelin. His eyes scanned the sky, looking for remaining Furies. The only action he could see was the cleanup operation winding down. The zep had two engines left and was pretty much sitting dead in the air and what fighters were left would soon be downed. Nathan saw Jack open fire and score a direct hit on an enemy fighter just as Big John fired a rocket into the tail of another. Zachary was alone in the air.

Just then the sound of a heavy machine gun boomed from his six. Most of the rounds zinged by without touching the plane but a few found their mark. The cockpit shook for a moment and then Nathan heard, "Ha ha Zachary! You might have got my zeppelin, but you won't be walking away from this one. I'm going to smear you all over these peaks!"

"So Devro has found the radio setting we've been using," thought Nathan. Quickly banked his Peacemaker into a sharp right, out of Devro's crosshairs.

"Oh I don't know Cooper. I think these peaks would look better in a coat of gray and brown."

His plane flew a tight turn as he looked over his shoulder at his tail. Devro was still on him. Devro opened fire with again. Nathan felt every hit pounding through his airframe like it was tin.

Devro would run out of ammo eventually, but by that time Nathan's plane would resemble a glass doll hit by buckshot. Not a pretty thought. As much as Zachary tried to jink and roll out of the way, Devro stuck to him like glue.

When did Devro get so good? Zachary should have seen it sooner. He had pulled enough cons to know when he was being suckered in…or at least he used to. He must be getting old.

"You can worry about that later," he thought as he dodged Devro's cannon fire. Nathan looked at the radio and though about calling for assistance. Even if he did pull the Fortune Hunters back to help him they would be too late to help, not to mention they would be vulnerable to the Top Hat that were still in the air. No, he was going to have to get out of this mess himself. A burst of smaller rounds, probably thirty cals slammed into the Peacemaker's engine. It began to sputter and cough. Nathan's mind flashed back to the Great War. He was 16, illegally registered in the Army Air Corp, flying high over France in his Neiupourt when out of the sun came Hinrich Kisler. That was the first time Nathan was tricked and shot down and this looked like the second…and last. Nathan pulled a split S, and then another, taking his altitude out in chunks. There was a chance that he could lose Devro in the mountains, but it was slim. The sound of light machine guns opened up on Nathan's six, heralding possible death. Zachary looked over his shoulder and he saw a weak looking crop duster diving down on Devro's tail, opening up with all it had. Smoke began to spill from Devro's Fury and Nathan saw Devro jump clear and pop his chute before the Fury exploded in a terrific fireball. Magnesium rounds were a surefire way to get that effect and Nathan guessed that was exactly what put Devro out of commission.

Zachary was glad that _he_ wasn't out of commission. He was in a state of shock. Who could have guessed that a guy who pushed a pencil around all day could push around the fight stick with fine precision?

"When we meet," said Nathan as he manipulated the radio " I owe you one, big time."


	6. Chapter 6: Have Writer Will Travel

Inside the Fortune Hunter's flagship zeppelin, the Pandora, Phred met the subject of his comics, a man immortalized in printed media all over the North American Nations; Nathan Zachary, gentleman air-pirate. Zachary went and met Phred in the hanger after Phred had accomplished the highly complicated process of docking with a zeppelin in the air, which Phred managed to do with little trouble. For all his awkwardness, Nathan could see that Phred was a decent pilot with a sharp mind. Nathan offered Phred a handshake, which Phred accepted.

Phred studied the man he was shaking hands with. Nathan was taller than Phred by three or four inches. His brown hair was trimmed neatly above the eyebrows, above steel blue eyes. He was wearing a white, buttoned, short sleeved shirt over a slightly muscular frame. His handshake was firm, but not threatening.

"Well Phred," said Nathan in his usual baritone, "I owe you one for watching my back up there."

"I-it was n-no problem Mr. Zachary," Phred stammered

Zachary laughed. "I'm no executive Phred. Nathan will do fine"

"Y-yes, well…it was no problem Nathan. I was just in the right place at the right time," said Phred awkwardly. "Say how do you know my name?"

Nathan laughed again. Somehow though it didn't annoy Phred like Van Buren's or Devro's… at least not as much.

"Come on," chuckled Nathan, "Let's go down to the galley to talk. I at least owe you something to eat and drink."

The galley on the Pandora was about the size of a small café. The walls were wood panels that looked like they had seen better days with electric lights along the sides. There were no windows as the galley was inside the zep gondola to make more room for gun stations along the promenade.

Phred sipped his small class of champagne slowly, as did Nathan. They both knew that high altitude plus alcohol equals a very drunk man, however Nathan insisted that they share a celebratory drink of his best stolen wine. Once finished the conversation began.

"So how did you know my name again?" asked Phred.

"Your editor told me," chuckled Nathan "George Van Buren serviced aircraft in my unit durring the Great War. We try to keep in touch, but my choice of occupation," Nathan indicated the room, "makes staying in touch with anyone difficult. I didn't get the letter he sent until yesterday."

"What letter?"

"The letter explaining that you were on your way to Sky Haven and that we were to meet up with you there and pretend to kidnap you."

Phred was stunned. "But I thought that I was supposed to find you and…k-kidnap me! W-what do you mean k-kidnap me?"

"Well that's George's idea of a joke."

"A joke?" Phred fought the urge to scream. He found the imaginary image of his fist ramming into the editor's face relaxed him in an odd way.

"The whole thing was supposed to loosen you up a little...well all except the Top Hat part," said Nathan, "Say how did you get mixed up with a gang like that anyhow?"

Phred sighed. "I was in Swift Jimmy's bar trying find some clue on where the Fortune Hunters were. I must have asked too many questions because he asked me if I was 'writing a book'. I took him too literally and said that I was writing a _comic_ book. I suppose Arge overheard me and I suppose he thought he would introduce me to his boss. It turned out that Devro hates comic books and…you know the rest."

Nathan smiled. "Sure, you drew out the Top Hats long enough for the Pandora to steal their loot waiting to be shipped off in trucks to their stash in the Rockies."

"What?"

"It was unintentional on your part but when Devro sent his entire zeppelin after you, leaving his goods almost totally ungarded, it was a golden opportunity for us to…guard it for him."

"Oh," murmured Phred, disheartened at the fact that he had been used as a tool.

"So here you go," said Nathan as he handed Phred a piece of paper.

"What is it?" said Phred

"It's your cut. It's hazardous work being a diversion."

Phred unfolded it and gasped. "One thousand dollars!"

"Well almost. We can't just turn the stolen loot into cash, so my marker will have to do until we sell our new ill gotten gains in Arixo." Nathan smiled as he got up to leave.

"A-Arixo!" Phred exclaimed, "I-I was hoping I could just interview you all…then I could l-leave."

"Sorry Phred but the Top Hats are still out there and I don't think they'll be quite as nice to you as they were before." Nathan chuckled, " Besides just think, as a crew member of the Pandora you get a cut of whatever we make. Can't beat that." And Nathan left alone in the galley.

Phred looked around the empty galley and sighed. In the silence he could faintly hear _"You'll be back before you know it. And just think of all the ADVENTURES you'll have. You're going to love it!"_ Phred's scream was drowned out by the Pandora's harmonious engines and the wind whistling by as the zeppelin hurried south towards Arixo.

_And that concludes my first FANFIC! Woot woot! Remember if you need info on the Crimson Skies Universe please see the link on my profile. Thanks for all your great reviews!_


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